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Sep. 3rd, 2006
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Sep. 3rd, 2006 09:40 pmWhere? I spent a lot of time this work-week making sure I could hit the new Nation...alchemy this Thur. By the time Thur was done, so was I. I never caught up with the work week and the girl wasn't feeling at all like going out, so I let feelings dictate over logistics and skipped the club. Friday, I did a good job working out, but the work I was supposed to do at home didn't get nearly as done as I wanted, so I also backed out of going out Friday because I worked so late and um...well the girl and I spent some time together. Saturday AM was wonderful but despite a valiant non-napping post-gym effort, I really didn't get much homework done. I got so see Niraz and a flash-from-the-past Tai Yim Kung fu at the Arlington World Music festival...but still my homework was hardly finished. I skipped going out Sat night so I could really get a handle on my homework since my work travel schedule will be nutty soon.
I made some progress on my schoolwork. When making a trip to the loo, the light switch flickered. I bumped it a few times, and it ceased working entirely. I installed the damn dimmer switch in the bathroom myself, and wasn't about to take this sitting down - not when 2 of 3 classes of homework was done. So I turned on a flashlight and decided that 9-10:30 was a great time to re-wire the dimmer switch in the bathroom on a Sat night. Long story short...literally...a loud pop on a live wire, and the bathroom light, hall light, and plug that powers the tv-vcr-dvd-stereo have a flat ekg. Fawk. The phone rang like 3 times while I had the circuit breaker thrown - I only have one circuit for the entire house full of switches and plugs. As of 10something Saturday, about a third of the outlets in my home don't work anymore. This is mysterious and potentially really fucking bad as it acts as though one fuse or circuit is blown out of many, only...there is just one circuit breaker. This rings of very expensive electrician issues - including possibly re-running wire through my 1950ish condo which has plaster walls.
I get drunk dialed and would LOVE to hit Kitty-O-JoesBarAndGrill. But. I have barely finished 2/3 of my homework. I'm physically tired. I just might have destroyed thousands of dollars of wiring because I don't like blinding white light in the bathroom every morning. I err on the side of wussing out from my bar-happy friends because...I might be shitty company. I want little more than the relief of alcohol's sweet idiocy, but I fear my temperament under these conditions, and instead volunteer myself as a chauffer, in the non-DePeche Mode since. I miss more messages due to various switches, timing, and an array of cordless phones which need go-go juice to play.
I wonder if Nexus is still operational - I suspect not.
OH and then today I notice the toilet seems like it's loose on it's bolt fittings. I say well, I blew up the fucking electrical system, why not try the plumbling? I pull the white cap and tighten one bolt, and hit the other side. I pull the cap...and the entire cap, with bolt, comes up in my hand. It seems the plate that holds the toilet in place has rusted clear through. Love. Lee. Sure it's cheap and simple to do, but do I have the time? No, I'm ten months and maybe 23 days from having the time. Like brakes, while I have done the work with help and know it is simple mechanically, I know that the if I try it myself the consequences of missteps are potentially huge. Hell, I should really be cramming the early parts of horn-books right now. I should be cramming them up my corn-hole (I now know why that's called a corn-hole, by the way) and hoping I learn through osmosis.
Corn-hole. I found out why it's called that. The line "corn-cob pussy" came from Hannibal. That's a different meaning. Still, if you combine "corn-hole" by the historical context with "pie-hole" from the vernacular, you get the really odd concept of "corn-pie" which makes you recoil in horror at what might stem from such. Luckily, as far as I know there is not, in fact, any such thing as corn pie. I sure hope there is no such thing as corn pie. There should not be.
Homeownership. I'd much rather rent-rich and have some insane knowledge of the stock market that makes ownership a stupid idea compared to shorting stocks 2 days before they are delisted. Instead, I'm facing every stupid consequence of aging, humidity, insect visitation, tremor, and my own stupidity as a huge financial liability based on homeownership. As that girl said in that Steven King movie where the blob-like-thingy was sucking her into the lake off of the raft...it hurts.
So it's Sun night when I have a 3-day weekend and I'm at home instead of trying to enjoy taint at dc9. I have a full liquor cabinet, myself, and this computer for entertainment. That's all I'm interested in right now, and the fact that is probably wrong only makes it more appropriate to my mood.
I made some progress on my schoolwork. When making a trip to the loo, the light switch flickered. I bumped it a few times, and it ceased working entirely. I installed the damn dimmer switch in the bathroom myself, and wasn't about to take this sitting down - not when 2 of 3 classes of homework was done. So I turned on a flashlight and decided that 9-10:30 was a great time to re-wire the dimmer switch in the bathroom on a Sat night. Long story short...literally...a loud pop on a live wire, and the bathroom light, hall light, and plug that powers the tv-vcr-dvd-stereo have a flat ekg. Fawk. The phone rang like 3 times while I had the circuit breaker thrown - I only have one circuit for the entire house full of switches and plugs. As of 10something Saturday, about a third of the outlets in my home don't work anymore. This is mysterious and potentially really fucking bad as it acts as though one fuse or circuit is blown out of many, only...there is just one circuit breaker. This rings of very expensive electrician issues - including possibly re-running wire through my 1950ish condo which has plaster walls.
I get drunk dialed and would LOVE to hit Kitty-O-JoesBarAndGrill. But. I have barely finished 2/3 of my homework. I'm physically tired. I just might have destroyed thousands of dollars of wiring because I don't like blinding white light in the bathroom every morning. I err on the side of wussing out from my bar-happy friends because...I might be shitty company. I want little more than the relief of alcohol's sweet idiocy, but I fear my temperament under these conditions, and instead volunteer myself as a chauffer, in the non-DePeche Mode since. I miss more messages due to various switches, timing, and an array of cordless phones which need go-go juice to play.
I wonder if Nexus is still operational - I suspect not.
OH and then today I notice the toilet seems like it's loose on it's bolt fittings. I say well, I blew up the fucking electrical system, why not try the plumbling? I pull the white cap and tighten one bolt, and hit the other side. I pull the cap...and the entire cap, with bolt, comes up in my hand. It seems the plate that holds the toilet in place has rusted clear through. Love. Lee. Sure it's cheap and simple to do, but do I have the time? No, I'm ten months and maybe 23 days from having the time. Like brakes, while I have done the work with help and know it is simple mechanically, I know that the if I try it myself the consequences of missteps are potentially huge. Hell, I should really be cramming the early parts of horn-books right now. I should be cramming them up my corn-hole (I now know why that's called a corn-hole, by the way) and hoping I learn through osmosis.
Corn-hole. I found out why it's called that. The line "corn-cob pussy" came from Hannibal. That's a different meaning. Still, if you combine "corn-hole" by the historical context with "pie-hole" from the vernacular, you get the really odd concept of "corn-pie" which makes you recoil in horror at what might stem from such. Luckily, as far as I know there is not, in fact, any such thing as corn pie. I sure hope there is no such thing as corn pie. There should not be.
Homeownership. I'd much rather rent-rich and have some insane knowledge of the stock market that makes ownership a stupid idea compared to shorting stocks 2 days before they are delisted. Instead, I'm facing every stupid consequence of aging, humidity, insect visitation, tremor, and my own stupidity as a huge financial liability based on homeownership. As that girl said in that Steven King movie where the blob-like-thingy was sucking her into the lake off of the raft...it hurts.
So it's Sun night when I have a 3-day weekend and I'm at home instead of trying to enjoy taint at dc9. I have a full liquor cabinet, myself, and this computer for entertainment. That's all I'm interested in right now, and the fact that is probably wrong only makes it more appropriate to my mood.